One Starlit Night
by Loreyulia
Summary: It's late in the night, and the Company of Thorin Oakenshield are bunked down for the night in the Skin-changer Beorn's home. Like any other evening after good food, a few drinks, and a relaxing smoke, Bilbo Baggins should have retired to bed. However, the mischievous Nephew's of Thorin son of Thrain, have some thing else in store for the Hobbit... gift fic for redroses100.


_**Disclaimer: Nope, I do not own the rights to Tolkein's characters, but I have decided to borrow them for only a short while. **_

_**A/N: This one shot is dedicated to my new bestie redroses100 who has not only written me song fics, a one shot, and has been through my new found BagginShield obsession from almost the beginning- but has become a wonderful friend. Expect lots of drunken behavior, smut by the water side, and awkward morning after's. I sincerely hope you enjoy this doll, since I promised you smut and hope that I delivered ;) **_

_**Enjoy, fine readers! **_

_One Starlit Night _

_Chapter One: Never Trust Smirking Dwarf's _

The raucous yelling, and merry shouts of Twelve Dwarves, filled the Skin-changers house to bursting. It reached the lofty rafters, amplified into a sonorous cacophony of laughter and rowdy happiness. The wood-smoke from the crackling fire drifted upward, and melded seamlessly with the pipe-weed's smokey gray tendrils- Bofur and Kílí the two Dwarves attributing to the hazy atmosphere.

Dinner had ended hours ago, a pleasant affair filled with herb roasted Deer, warm rolls, and to Bilbo's immense pleasure- plenty of fresh honey to slather upon his bread. The Hobbit sat back in his too-large wooden chair, a dreamy sigh slipping through his lips at the stretched, and bloated feeling of a full tummy— for he had not felt this content since Rivendell. He looked around at his Companion's cheerful faces, most of them buried in giant mugs of ale or mead, and smiled warmly. At first all of the noise, crude humor, and downright _abysmal _manners had deterred the Hobbit from seeking their company. That was at the beginning, before he had come to cherish each and every one of those rambunctious Dwarf's.

Bilbo looked down into his own cup of mead, a heavy flush starting to crawl up his cheeks, and to the tips of his pointed ears. His head felt vaguely fuzzy, and with that realization, he knew that he now had enough to drink for the night. Bilbo set his oversized mug down on the table, pushing it away a little regretfully because it had tasted sweet, and absolutely wonderful. He then shook his head a couple of times, trying in vain to rid himself of the fogginess that slowed down his thoughts and increased his desires.

The Hobbit went to slide down from his enormous chair, when two arms - each one belonging to a different Dwarf, but moved together in a frightening display of unity- took hold of either of his shoulders. "Master Boggins," Kílí shouted, his grip tightening on the delicate creature in his grasp.

"Where do ya' think you're going?" Fílí finished, cocking his blond head to the side in a questioning gesture.

"Ah well..." Bilbo tittered for a moment, gaze sweeping from one Brother's face, to the other's and then back to Kílí's. "I was planning on turning in for the night boys- I think... I think I've had too much to drink."

The two Brother's shook Bilbo's shoulders back and forth between each other, making the Hobbit's head spin and his stomach flip at the rocking motion. "Aw c'mon," Kílí pouted around the pipe stem still clamped firmly between his teeth, "please don't leave Master Boggins! The evening has only just begun." Beside him, the Hobbit could see Fílí nodding his head enthusiastically and couldn't help but sigh.

"Look," Bilbo tried to sound firm, but failed as a tiny hiccup bubbled forth, "I don't think it would be a good idea for me to drink any more..."

Fílí and Kílí exchanged glances and mischievous smirks; and from that moment on, Bilbo Baggins knew he was doomed. "Oh Kílí," the older Brother began, placing a leather clad hand over his chest in mock pain, "I don't think our Burglar likes us much... we offer to give him a good time, and he refuses! In fact, I think he rather _dislikes_ us, Brother."

Kílí joined in quickly, a fake look of hurt and shock on his pale face. "Why Fílí, I do think you are quite right. Even after we have done nothing but treat him nicely, it seems Mister Boggins would rather go to sleep, than share in our _fun._" The younger Dwarf some how managed to summon tears for added effect, looking even more miserable than a kicked puppy.

The Hobbit groaned pitifully at the twin looks of hurt and betrayal upon the Dwarf Prince's faces. "Now look here, you both know that I care a great deal for the two of you- and just because I have decided to turn in for the night, so I don't do any thing stupid in a drunken fit to tarnish my respectable name- it doesn't mean that I **dislike** you. It means that I am thinking rationally, and in my own best interests."

Fílí and Kílí had the good grace to look at the floor boards shamefully, both feeling guilty for insinuating that Bilbo had anything less than fierce love for his companions. That however, did not stop the two from trying to get the Hobbit to join in on their little game. For the two Dwarf Prince's had a plan, and it involved getting their little Burglar good and wasted.

"Please Mister Boggins,"

"We just want to-"

"-spend more time with,"

"Our favorite Burglar!"

The Brother's volleyed off of each other in that disturbing manner Bilbo had witnessed countless times during their journey- and some how, it was still no less impressive to watch.

A small head ache was beginning to brew just behind the Hobbit's stormy blue eyes, and he glanced over at his still half full cup of mead wistfully. The two obnoxious Brother's had gotten his drunken thoughts all in a tizzy, and now more mead sounded like a good idea to help soothe the ache in his head. "Fine, but I will only finish off what is in my cup, and then I shall retire to bed." Bilbo leveled the Brother's with a steely glare, which if the Hobbit could have seen his own face, turned out to be nothing more than a few drunken bobs of his curly head.

Fílí and Kílí exchanged quick glances, before matching grins spread across their faces. "Of course Master Hobbit," the two chimed in unison. Bilbo rolled his eyes, and turned his attention towards his drink; not knowing the fate he had sealed for himself.  
_

"Another!" Three voices cried in unison, quite loudly and slightly slurred. Most of the Company now surrounded Fílí, Kílí, and Bilbo; each Dwarf cheering on one of the three as they downed their poison of choice. As it was, they were all three neck-in-neck for amount of alcohol consumed– which to the surprise of the Dwarves– the little Hobbit had been able to match the Durin boys drink for drink. The Brother's eyed their resident Hobbit warily, seeing the small, often well mannered male in a whole new light.

Bilbo's face was heavily flushed, and he was more prone to random bought's of giggling; but other than that, the tiny Hobbit marched ever forward down the path of utter drunkenness. If Bilbo Baggins had not proved he was a Hobbit full of unexpected things before, well now each and every one of his Dwarven companions would have much to consider regarding their smallest member.

At the three's previously boisterous request, more drinks were poured into their mugs accompanied by more rowdy cheers. Fílí gave Kílí a side long glance, raising an eyebrow and slightly tilting his head to the side. The younger of the two followed his Brother's flashing gaze, over to a secluded corner, where they both knew their Uncle was lurking. They smiled, a hint of some thing _devious_ glittering in both of their eyes, when they caught sight of Thorin trying to subtly check out Bilbo from his spot hidden in the shadows. If ever there was a time to be wary of the Durin boys' mischievous smirks, this would be it– however, Bilbo Baggins took no notice, as he was too busy trying to see straight enough to lift his cup up to his face.

"C'mon boys," Bilbo shouted happily, his big blue eyes glassy and wide in the firelight, "don't let this stuffy, little Hobbit drink you two under the table! Wouldn't do good for those manly reputation's, would it?" Fílí and Kílí returned their attention over to the Hobbit, amused at how eager he was to drink now, when before he had been so adamant about it. All it took was one of the two Brother's distracting the Hobbit long enough, while the other kept filling his mug back up to the halfway mark. By the time Bilbo could have noticed, he was probably too drunk to care.

"Of course Master Baggins," Fílí lightly patted said Hobbit on the back, and did not let it go unnoticed how his Uncle glared murderously at the small gesture of companionship. _Really, _Thorin was making this all too _**easy**_ for them...

Bilbo lifted his mug, completely unaware of the heated stare boring into the back of his curly head, as he made a toast. "To meddling Wizard's!" The Hobbit declared, much to the immediate confusion of his Companions, until he clarified. "Without which, I would not have left my home and made such wonderful friends!" And well, if a couple Dwarf's became a little misty eyed because of the Hobbit's sweet confession, no one made mention of it.

He then proceeded to drink deeply from his cup, though _succeeded_ would be a strong word to use– for all the liquid that dribbled down his chin, and onto his travel worn waist coat and trousers. There was silence for all of a moment as Bilbo stared dumbly down at his lap, each and every Dwarf knowing full well how much the Hobbit hated getting his fine clothes dirty. The tension was quickly broken though as Bilbo began to giggle drunkenly at his own actions, which in turn slowly evolved into the house being filled once more with an ungodly racket. Fílí and Kílí shared one more knowing glance, and a decisive nod– seeming as always to have a penchant for telepathic communication.

"Why," Kílí began, "look at the state of your clothes, Master Boggins!" His brown eyes were blown wide, almost comically so, for the added effect of drama.

Fílí nodded quickly, chiming in to help his Brother with their little "plan". "Indeed! I'm fairly certain a fine Hobbit such as yourself would like to be rid of those clothes– what with that cold, _wet, __**stickiness**_ making them cling to you uncomfortably like that!" If Thorin shifted a bit in his seat at the blatant sexual innuendo in his Oldest Nephew's tone, it meant their plan was working... it was an even better sign that along with the awkward shifting, Thorin's cheeks glowed a faint pink in the dull light of the fire.

The younger Durin fought down the smirk that threatened to creep across his face at his Uncle's actions. "Yes, it seems we must simply _rid_ you of your clothes, Bilbo..." he whispered the Hobbit's name, moving a tad bit closer to him. Bilbo turned his round, stormy blue eyes on Kílí, a look of confusion crinkling the skin between his brows.

This was it, the moment the two Brother's had diligently worked towards creating tonight. "In fact Mister Baggins," Fílí leaned into the Hobbit's flushed, pointy ear, "we know of a perfect little place for you to wash up... that is, if you don't mind us _joining _you."

They didn't expect Bilbo to take them up on the offer, in fact they fully expected the respectable Hobbit to give them a sound lashing about privacy and his decency. So, when the Hobbit merely stammered out, "Ah... um– okay?" It was a complete and utter shock to the two Durin boys. For a few seconds they just sat in stunned silence, but luckily Kílí recovered quickly to help keep the plan from falling apart.

"Excellent!" The young Dwarf proclaimed, slinging an arm around one of Bilbo's thin shoulders. Fílí quickly followed suit, casting a nervous glance over toward's their Uncle; who was practically glaring daggers into the sides of their heads... oh yeah, they were going to pay for this little stunt, if it didn't work out in the end. But honestly, the two Brother's were absolutely _exhausted_ from watching their Uncle pine away for the little Hobbit, and decided to finally take matters into their own hands.

Unfortunately for them, Thorin Oakenshield had decided that enough was _**enough–**_ and that he was not going to sit by idly any more and watch his flirtatious Nephew's bother his– no _their_ Burglar any more. So, with a heavy scowl upon his face and irritation flashing in his eyes, the Dwarf Prince stomped his way over towards the three drunken fools at the end of the table. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, and peered down his regal nose at his obnoxious Nephew's and the adorable Halfling– who was glossy eyed, with a heavy flush on his care-worn face.

Thorin swallowed heavily, taking in the sight of warm oranges and yellows that danced through Bilbo's ashy blond hair, and across his flawlessly pale skin. The way the Hobbit's tapered ears peeked through his curly hair, the tips tinged pink in the most delicious of ways. His lips, parted just a fraction; full and pouty– just begging to be kissed...

"Can we help you with some thing, Uncle?" Fílí and Kílí asked in perfect unity, right down to the pitch and cadence— a display that had failed to amuse the Oldest Durin long ago. With a start, Thorin realized that he must have looked quite strange; stomping over, glaring at the three, and then just standing there for a good minute like an idiot.

Clearing his throat, Thorin pinned them each with a particularly fearsome glare before stating, "What is this I hear of bathing?" His piercing blue eyes slid between his Nephew's guilty looking faces and landed eventually upon Bilbo's confused grimace. "If you have found a nice place for all of us to indulge in a good washing, you should have spoken up earlier, **Fílí. Kílí.**" Thorin's tone was reprimanding and as straight edged as ever, and watching the boy's wince like little Dwarflings because of it brought a reluctant smile to his lips.

Turning his head to look behind him at the rest of the Company, Thorin declared loudly, his deep voice expanded and amplified because of the vaulted ceilings of Beorn's home. "It seems my Nephew's have so _**kindly**_ found a place for us all to refresh and clean ourselves. We should thank them, and indulge in what little comforts that we can while we are here." Thorin returned his attention to the three before him, eyes narrowing just a fraction at the identical smirks that greeted him. "Now boy's, why don't we take Master Baggins here to this place that you have mentioned, so he can rid himself of this cold, _wet, __**stickiness.**_"

Thorin's broody scowl brooked no arguments, and the way he threw Fílí and Kílí's words back in their faces so bitingly, made the two visibly flinch. The Dwarf Prince couldn't help feeling a sense of smug superiority at their adequate reactions to his words. He may not have fully comprehended what the two were playing at, but Thorin had enough sense in him to know when the boy's were _up_ to some thing. And if this _something_ involved his Hobbit, well... he couldn't just let that happen, now could he?

_**~T.B.C.~ **_

_**E/N: Okay, so originally this was going to be one whole story but because of really hard to explain, and boring issues with my phone (which is my only source of internet) I have decided to split this into two parts. The second half will contain all of the smut, and the awkward morning after as well as a crap ton of fluff so if you want to just read that stuff you can skip this and wait until I post part two. I need some time to write it and type it out, and maybe try and fix my phone, so expect part 2 in no later than a week. I hope this will be fun, and entertaining enough until then. :) **_

_**Well, I'll see you all soon! **_


End file.
